


One Bullet

by 37h4n0l



Category: 91 Days (Anime)
Genre: Gen, but still avilero if you squint, i feel like theres a very specific and obv warning that should go here, its just a drabble tbh, not shippy enough for the m/m category, started out as a hypothesis on tumblr, you could see this shit coming if you read my post or know me
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-08-17
Updated: 2016-08-17
Packaged: 2018-08-09 11:08:34
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,319
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/7799383
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/37h4n0l/pseuds/37h4n0l
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>A gun with a single ammunition. Nero has the same.<br/>(A hypothetical ending for the last episode)</p>
            </blockquote>





	One Bullet

**Author's Note:**

> You are deluded if you thought for a second that I would resist the urge to write this.

Angelo feels the blood gushing from the wounds all over his stomach and thighs. A few of his bones might be fractured, but he can’t bring himself to care. He’s so close, oh, so close. It’s the day of his judgment. He will bring about justice right here, in this chapel which seems so much more spatious than the open sky. The colorful lights emanating from the windows dance around on his face as he drags himself across the marble floor, leaving a trail of crimson liquid behind himself.

 

There’s one single figure in front of him. No one else can disturb them now; him, and the man of whom he can only see the shilouette due to the sunrays behind him. A gun with a single ammunition. Nero has the same, he calculated this thoroughly. He’s not as wounded as Angelo, but he’s been running for several minutes and is still panting hard.

 

Angelo has decided beforehand not to shoot right away. They’re in a sort of mutual checkmate: any of them could try and kill the other at any given time. None of them want to die though, so the best they can do is stare at each other when the Lagusa finally stops a few meters away from the other. 

 

“You know what I came to do” he says with tired determination, spurting out a few drops of blood from his throat. 

 

“I’m surprised you’re still standing, honestly” Nero responds, and even now, it sounds like some goddamn joke or affectionate comment. It irritates Angelo to no end.

 

“This is the last sunset of your life.”

 

“I suppose that’s right, ahhahah” he laughs.

 

“Instead of trying to ridicule me, you should tell me your last wish, in case you have one.” The younger man has already lifted up the gun, pointing it at his nemesis who, however, still holds his own weapon relaxed as ever.

 

“Everyone outside is looking for me at the moment, right?” Nero scratches his head, looking up. “Even if I somehow got out of here alive, I wouldn’t make it for more than a few days, which means we have plenty of time here. Correct me if I’m wrong.”

 

Angelo, despite his increasing impatience, nods.

 

“I just wanted to have a chat, you know. One of those nice little convos we had when we travelled around. That’s all I ask for,  _ Avilio _ .”

 

The Lagusa knows perfectly that Nero is aware of his real name. This is outright mockery and if the Vanetti was hoping to divert his finger from the trigger, well, he achieved the exact opposite. But Angelo doesn’t pull it. He’s a civil fellow; he can concede a dead man a simple dialogue. 

 

“What do you want to talk about? How you are complicit in the murder of a family? Including  _ children _ ?”

 

“There’s not much to say about that” Nero replies quietly. 

 

Angelo releases a loud sigh, with the pistol still aimed at the other man who quickly resumes.

 

“But I wanted to tell you that I had this suspicion about you, you know. I’ve had that kid who ran away on my mind ever since that day. I know this doesn’t do you any good now… But I even told you, remember?”

 

Yes, ‘Avilio’ remembers being sat by the campfire, desperately trying to contain his ire when he heard the story from the Vanetti-perspective.

 

“Especially when we caught Orco. That alterego you made for yourself was way too well-crafted.”

 

“Don’t try to give me that” Angelo retorts “If you really knew, you wouldn’t be here now. You would’ve killed me a long time ago.”

 

“You’re right, I wasn’t sure enough of this hypothesis… But I wouldn’t have killed you anyway.”

 

Nero pauses for effect.

 

“I mean, I quite like you, Angelo.” The Lagusa’s grip on the gun tightens. “You’re an honest man, always true to yourself. Much better than whatever they will remember  _ me _ as, after this evening.”

 

“Isn’t it possible that you just feel indebted to me?”

 

“I’ve liked you since I met you” Vanetti says, taking a step forward. “And, with all the filthy pigs and criminals out there, I wouldn’t mind dying by your hands.”

 

“You are a criminal as well. The worst of them, in fact.”

 

Nero turns around, apparently having lost all worries about being shot in the back. He stares in awe at the rosace above the altar. The sun shines right in his face, tinted by the glass tiles of different colours positioned in a radially symmetric shape by the artist. 

 

“Will you condemn me for all eternity because of something I did when I was fourteen?” At this point, it’s not clear whether he’s talking to Angelo or the large crucifix in front of him. 

 

It’s not a particularly good art piece; the bronze Christ-figure lacks details in the sculpting which were clumsily reproduced with the coloured paint afterwards, and the big, wooden cross looks as if there hadn’t been enough effort put into it. Nevertheless, combined with the chapel’s atmosphere, it gives off an eerie and holy sensation. Christ looks like an emotionless judge of good and evil, looking down upon mankind from his holiness. 

 

“You will repent for your sins by dying here” says the Lagusa, making the other turn back his way. 

 

Nero wipes some dirt off his face. Angelo can’t tell for sure due to the lighting, but he’s almost certain that he saw something gleam in his eyes. 

 

“Hey… Remember when you used to buy pineapples?” 

 

The younger man isn’t sure how to respond to what he can only interpret as a distraction tactic.

 

“Man, that was nasty. When we had to eat those all day… I wondered where you got your energy from, you know.”

 

“They are… fairly rich in sugar” Angelo mutters.

 

“Still, I didn’t mind. I mean, it was fun in the end. Almost got ourselves killed so many times… Now, if you really were Avilio, we’d get the hell out of here and run off again.”

 

“I’m not Avilio. Avilio doesn’t exist.”

 

“Jeez, you don’t have to tell me. It’s just a bit of a shock to me, still.” Vanetti ruffles the back of his own hair. 

 

Angelo’s arm is getting tired of holding up the gun so high, but his will is enough to keep his muscles flexed. His target is running out of topics and is now looking up, trying to pull out something new. 

 

“Are you finished?” he asks him.

 

“Oh, more or less. Just a few more things. I won’t keep you waiting for too long, I promise.”

 

The Lagusa nods. He has to lift his head to find a new angle, since the light is now blinding him. 

 

“To sum this up… In the end, you are a good one, Avilio.”  _ He’s still calling him that way… _ The other winces in indignation.

 

“Whatever you’ll do after this, I wish you luck with it. I wouldn’t mind if you were the one who killed me” the Vanetti even smiles at that, and it would be so perfect and fitting to see some sarcasm or coldness in it, but Angelo  _ can’t _ .

 

“But,” he continues “Turning you into the same thing I’ve become? That’s one sin too much for me.”

 

The other man barely has the time to comprehend what is happening and gets ready to run for shelter as soon as his nemesis lifts his own pistol. And yet, his arm never stretches out towards the Lagusa, whose eyes widen and hand starts to shake. 

 

“Nero?!” he asks in a trembling voice, the question interrupted by a gunshot. 

 

Panting, Angelo falls on his knees from both disbelief and exhaustion. There he lies, the last target of his revenge, taken out. His expression looks peaceful in that pool of blood and his limbs are sprawled across the marble. Nero Vanetti’s hand is still holding the weapon, now devoid of bullets. 

  
  



End file.
